Early Snows

Winter’s long arms flung wide,
her fingertips chilling the close hours and
stretching past the blanched tomorrows –
we take her hand as a mother’s.

Let us linger and leer at yellow leaves,
shivering in accordance with the season.

Please, let us not remark on
how a part may die and drift away
while the remainder slumbers,
fed by dreams.

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